Stalker X Stalker Novels & Stories

Tyler starred at Xavier in shock as he raised his glass. "To Maya and Xavier forever." Everybody chorused. Xavier grinned. They have sold their lies to the smartest people he knew successfully.

I already have men on their way to the scene as we speak it appears the creature has just been stunned, you did quite a bit of damage so good job. Dantzler: That's! BULLSHIT!! ALSO YEAH WHERE DID XANNE GO, BUT NO THAT'S BULLSHIT! I won fair ad square..... damnit fine! (With a heavy sigh he stretches both of his arms out and cracks his back then begins charging forward into the desert after the creature) [A little deeper into the underground military base Xanne has begun walking around with what appears to be a camouflage color shopping cart and is picking up items as he goes along]

​The Conservatory Passage. Tuesday. 1:26 AM. ​The stone steps rising from the drainage culverts were narrow, slick with decades of subterranean condensation, and steep enough to force a rhythmic, brutal strain on the thighs. Xavier climbed them with a terrifying, mechanical efficiency, his tactical rifle held high, his boots biting into the slick stone with a heavy, purposeful cadence. Behind him, Scarlett kept pace, her breath coming in short, sharp hitches that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion and everything to do with the clock ticking down inside her skull.

I shook my head, my throat dry. “It's a studded paddle.” He turned it over in his hands, letting me see both sides. One side was smooth leather, and the other was studded, the metal bumps rising like the nodes on a medieval mace. “The smooth side will leave a deep, thudding impact. The studded side will leave marks. Small, precise circles, each one a different point of pain.” I glared, and he smirked. “This is my favourite toy.” I raised a brow. “Have you used it before?”

I patted his back and settled down next to him. Xan is a portable hacking machine. You request someone's location or their secret wealth they've hidden and kept under different names in the bank and he'll get them to you within five seconds. He just needs a laptop. "I'm creating some new hacking softwares which I'll sell you for billions." "I have purchased enough from you. I don't think I'd need anything new for now." "You'll regret your words once it's ready, asshole." "We'll see." I said and watched him type with the fierceness that one shows on piano keys. His fingers were literally dancing on the keyboard without causing a mistake. "Where are others?"

"If you want to live to see the next moonrise, hire the contract killer now," Seraphina Duskryn hissed, her sharp claws digging into the surface of the iron table inside the Blackmoor Pack House. She stared down at the crisp high-definition surveillance photos scattered across the stone floor. Every shot captured my form. Xender Stormriven, moving with lethal precision through Nightfall Territory, my leather jacket tight over broad shoulders, twin silver daggers strapped to my thighs, and my jaw set in a cold, hard line.

"In my mountain? In her room?" Vincent raised his hand, and the shadows of the room rose like a tidal wave, wrapping around the Stalker. It was a battle of darkness against darkness. Vincent’s magic was ancient and grounded in the earth, while the Stalker’s was a corrupted, alchemical imitation. "Félix, now!" Vincent commanded. Félix, gasping for air, saw his opening. He reached into the pouch on his belt—the one Maya had given us—and pulled out a vial of concentrated Blue-Brier and lunar salt. He smashed the vial directly into the Stalker’s face.

His voice cut through the panic like a knife. “It’s not happening again.” I looked at him blindly. “Look at me,” he snapped. My trembling gaze locked onto those frozen blue eyes. For one terrifying second, I saw something unexpected inside them. Fear. Not for himself. For me. Then the creature shrieked. The sound ripped through the docks like grinding steel. Every Ravager Hunter raised their weapons instantly. But the Stalker ignored them. Its head snapped toward me. Toward weakness. Toward prey. “Oh, hell,” one mercenary muttered.

He pushed me on the ground, Just when he took out his belt, a gun sound filled the small alleyway and he screamed, falling on his knees. The stalker was behind him, his brows were furrowed and I could feel the rage emanating from his body. I shifted to a side of the alley and covered my hand around my thorn sweatshirt, two men in black suits followed behind the stalker but kept their distance, one held a chainsaw saw and the other a can and a lighter. “I warned you and your crew, I told you what would happen if you went near Elsa.” The stalker’s voice makes a shiver pass through my entire body. They knew each other, Of course they did.

I could hear them scuttling across rooftops, their clicking sounds echoing through the streets. The camp alarm started blaring. Hunters poured out of buildings, weapons drawn. But they weren’t ready. Most of them were Stage One, barely trained. They’d get slaughtered. “North perimeter!” I shouted. “They’re coming from the north!” The first anomaly dropped into the camp. A Stalker. Then another. Then five more. They moved with that coordinated intelligence that made them Class C instead of Class D. I hit the first one with a shadow spike, driving through its skull before it could attack. The second one dodged and came at me from the side. I caught it with a shadow net, pulled it down, and fin